Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1887-10-16
Salaries not Allowed.

William Gill, the stage manager, has had
AWARDED experience, and the other evening
told some friends story which is rather
amusing. In the early 10s, when the
Black Hills excitement arose, Mr.. Gill
landed in San Francisco from Australia,
where he had been playing, and in a short
time was getting along toward the bot
tom of his pocket. Rumors of the bound
less wealth to be had almost for the ask
ing in the Black Hills were flying thick
and fast and thither Gill concluded to 90.
His remaining money carried him little
way, but there were 800 miles of wild
country yet to cross. Gill was plucky and
bound to reach the Hills, and lie tramped
every foot of the way through a region
alive with hostile Indians and where q
white mans face was a rarity. He pulled
through safely, and one day entered one
of the new towns which had sprung up in
the Hills country without copper in his
pockets and faint from hunger. There
was variety theatre, of course, and into
the managers Office he walked and asked
for work.
The manager was tough Of the toughs
who talked through his teeth and was as
spry with his fists as with his pistol.
What can you do? he snarled.
Anything" answered Gill
IAN right. I'll give you $25 a week.
and you can go on tonight"
Gill worked faithfully for week and
then walked up for his salary
Here it is, said the manager, "and /
don't want you no longer"
whats the matter Isn't my bust
ness all right Don't earn my salary"
"All right Why of course is You're
daisy. But have to pay you your sal
airy. l amt going to pay no salaries in
this shanty. All the other ducks what
works for me owes me more at the end Of
the week than l owes them. That's the
way get even. You'll have to skip"
And Gill had to seek another engage
ment elsewhere.
81 have the worst time in the world
convincing my people OF the real facts
about mirages on the Colorado desert :"
said Conductor Tom Williamson, Of Il :
Atlantic and Pacific road, to a reporter.
Twenty miles out from Mojaye, On my
run, and all across the desert every morn
ing just after sunrise, you see everything.
You'd think You were right on the bank
Of a river, but you never get 20 IT. Then
again you see magnificent lake, the color
of an emerald-no go, no lake, can't get
TO il. And bless my stars though I run
over that road every day, and see these
scenes over and over again, can't bring
myself TO believe don't see water. Well,
if it's difficult for me, how much more
difficult is It for the passengers,
Between my own superstitSons about
these things, If you may call them such,
the questions Of a fresh grist Of pasSen-
gers every day, and my regular duties,
you may be sure / have enough 10 do.
II have heard of ghosts lowering
around and bofbering railroad trains. 1
never saw any ghosts-that Is, none Of
those things dressed in whife-but / II tell
you what I did see once. It was two
weeks ago last Monday morning. The
sun rose just ss we were crawling cut OF
Fenner, which Is station 200 miles east
Of Mojaye. X tipped as glorious Lake as
ever saw, all in an efiulgens glow. Upon
that lake, rnoving 10 and fro in boats, was
a myriad Of people. Gliding bifher and
tlither, the scene reminded me Of the re-
alzation Of strange NEUROLOGICAL tale
II appeared 20 rne as though there were .
thousand people On that lake, big and
little, old and young, male and female
s.If vas as il the whole thing was in
paufomsme, and then all al once the
thing or whatever it was, disappeared
/ / Was scared Upon my word ! WA
hsye = sort Of notion tbas III get . nsw
xUute The h6be0hai1s a th6pe MtnGe1
a1nxa M '; 6an TSnncfpDo fnsr-